Bait
by ProcrastinationGirl
Summary: To catch a serial killer, Sharon Raydor must go undercover at a speed dating event. Will she be able to lure the killer out? And will she be able to handle him when she does?
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I actually derived inspiration for this story from several places, and I feel the need to call those out. My muse was sparked upon reading tanya-arianneNL's Closer story 'Would I Lie to You?', but I wanted to take the idea of Sharon going undercover in a dating situation in a different direction. The speed dating event was drawn from a mixture of my own experiences and from the Law and Order: SVU episode 'Starved'. The rest I think came mostly from my own head, though I admit that I've watched so many procedural crime dramas over the years, you might see wisps of those shows woven in unconsciously._

_ I generally prefer to completely finish a story before allowing others to see it. However, this may be why I haven't finished a single story that I've ever written. And I was in danger of doing it again. I got these first chapters down and then I hit a wall. I'm hoping that actually putting this out there will give me the boost I need to write the next part. I got it all planned out for the most part ... I just need to get it down into words. So, if you have some feedback, I'd love to hear it. Anything to motivate me into pushing on through to the next part of the story._

_I should warn you that this story does deal with rape and murder, though nothing graphic. But if the idea of either unnerves you, this probably isn't the story for you. Its nothing you wouldn't see on TV. Cable TV._

_Also, I have no beta, so all mistakes are mine. I've re-read this many many times, so I hope I caught everything, but if you see anything, please let me know and I'll correct it. I'm particularly interested in whether you pick up on any glaring plot holes ... I worry about that type of thing, despite having spent a lot of time trying to work out details to a point where you can at least suspend disbelief for the duration of the story._

_Finally, I feel that I need to put a disclaimer on this work, as I see it on every other piece of fan fiction I have ever read. Major Crimes and its characters are not mine - it is all owned by James Duff and TNT and whoever else that may include. I am just playing with the characters because I love them and hiatus = torture. No copyright infringement is intended._

The woman whimpered through the gag in her mouth, tears streaming down her face. She tried to calm herself down, telling herself that at least it was over. She had read about the devastating effects that rape could have on a woman's mind and body, but knew that many also got through it. Hell, she had even counselled some of them. Surviving is what mattered – the remaining wounds could be addressed over time.

She closed her eyes as the man who had raped her got off of her and walked away. Although her wrists were still cuffed to the bedposts, she wiggled her bottom to try and move her skirt back down to cover herself. Fresh tears of humiliation sprung when she realized that it was a futile endeavor. Her movements had apparently recaptured his attention, for he walked back over, now wearing his pants.

"Well, look at you," he sneered. "Not so superior now, are you? You over-educated bitch – how does it feel to let a man take charge for once?"

She tried to respond but the gag in her mouth prevented anything but an incoherent mumble. The man only laughed.

"You can't stand it, can you? You can't stand not being able to take control of this situation. Not being able to prattle on with your psychobabble, explaining how you know more than I ever could."

His handsome face contorted as he finished his words, transforming into an angry mask of hate. It took her breath away to see how different he really was from the façade he had presented to her over the course of their two dates. How could she have been so incredibly wrong about someone?

His face suddenly lost all emotion, as if he had come to a decision. He quickly straddled her and put his hands around her neck. She started to panic, feeling the strength in his hands begin to close her windpipe, and she thrashed wildly, trying to throw him off – anything to survive. Between his larger size and superior strength, however, he was able to maintain his firm grip on her throat, continuing to squeeze harder.

As she started to black out, all she could think about was that she probably wasn't the first one he had lured in … and that she probably wouldn't be the last.


	2. Chapter 2

Sharon Raydor sighed as she carefully squatted beside the naked body of a middle-aged woman who had clearly been brutalized prior to being dumped on the side of the road. They were still waiting on an ID, but Sharon was already noting things about the dead woman's person. Although not young, she clearly took good care of herself, as she was toned and in shape. She had a nice manicure and pedicure, suggesting that she cared about her appearance.

"Well, I'm going to go out on a limb here and suggest that COD was strangulation," Tao stated, pointing to the angry red fingermarks ringing her neck.

"Yes," Flynn chimed in. "It would seem that we have another victim of the strangulation rapist. This is the third in so many weeks – we really need to catch this guy."

"Hopefully we'll be able to put together a better profile once we've IDed her – so far his victims don't seem to fit a particular type, other than being of … a certain age," Provenza grumbled. Sharon looked up from her position beside the body, raising an eyebrow at his choice of words.

"Well," Provenza back-pedaled. "I mean, they've all been … not exactly _young_ but not exactly _old_. You know –"

"I think the word you're looking for is middle-aged," Sharon supplied, putting a hand out to him silently requesting help to rise. He rolled his eyes and took it so that she could pull herself up. "He seems to go after women of different races, occupations, physical types – but they have so far all been in their forties and fifties."

Amy Sykes joined the group around the body.

"We've completed the search of the area – we haven't found anything. It appears this was just the dumpsite. She's close enough to the road that he could have literally pushed her from the car without even stopping. I don't think there is anything here for us to find."

"Alright, people," Sharon called out. "Let's pack it in. I don't think there is anything else to be done tonight. Buzz, have you finished documenting the scene?"

"I think so. The ME is moving her now, and as Detective Sykes said, there isn't much here to document."

"Ok, then. Go home, everyone. I'll see you bright an early tomorrow morning." Sharon dismissed her team, silently wishing that if people were going to murder other people, that they could at least do so on a weekday. She immediately felt a pang of guilt complaining about the lost weekend when the woman in front of her would never see another. She sighed and turned to walk to her car.

Rusty was still up when she got back to the condo. Although it was quiet, she could see the light spilling out into the hallway from his open door. She paused in the doorway of his room, taking a moment to observe him.

He was lying on his stomach on the bed, laptop in front of him. He had a pensive look on his face as he unconsciously nibbled on his thumbnail, staring intently at the computer screen. It was his chess face – she had come to know it well. At that moment he looked up and gave a huge start.

"Jesus, Sharon! You scared the crap out of me! How long have you been standing there?"

"Not even a minute," she replied. "I wasn't sure if you'd still be up, so I was trying not to make too much noise. Sorry for startling you. Good game?"

He sighed and seemed to let it go.

"Yeah, this guy is pretty good. I think I have him, though. Just a few more moves and it will be checkmate. I'm surprised you're back so soon – I thought you'd be out all night."

"There wasn't much more to be done this late on a Saturday night, so we'll reconvene tomorrow morning. I'm actually heading to bed now – I just wanted to say 'good night' since you're still up. I'm not sure if I'll see you tomorrow until late," Sharon told him, stifling a yawn that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her.

"Good night, then," Rusty said, his attention already tuned back in to the chess game on his computer.

Sharon lingered a moment more before turning to her own bedroom, a small half smile on her face. It was heartwarming to see Rusty just being a teenager. She wasn't sure if it would come to pass, given his history. Yet, here he was, neither closing himself off nor being overly clingy. He gave off an air of contentment with his current situation, and though he still had demons to wrestle with, he seemed to truly feel at home here with her.

She closed the door to her bedroom quietly, changing quickly into her nightgown. She completed her evening routine, climbing into bed a little before midnight. Although she was quite tired, she pulled her book from her nightstand, situating her glasses back onto her face. She had long ago learned that if she didn't read at least a few pages of something completely unrelated to her current case prior to falling asleep, the details of said case would inevitably weave themselves into her dreams. And given the nature of her current line of work, that outcome never resulted in a good night's rest.

She heard Rusty's muffled 'Boo-yeah!' from the other room, indicating that he had indeed won the game. She smiled and then settled into the latest Amy Tan novel.


	3. Chapter 3

"Alright, let's go over it again," Sharon told the room.

The team was all present, scattered about the room amid discarded coffee cups and partially emptied take out containers. They were tired and they were frustrated. It had been almost another full day since the latest body had been found, and they were still no closer to catching the perpetrator.

Sanchez rose from his desk and headed toward the murder board to present the case.

"Ok, we've got three victims," he began. "All raped and then strangled. Each body was found naked and dumped at the side of the road, though never in the same place. No DNA or fingerprints were found on the bodies. The perp has killed each Saturday for the last three weeks, sometime in the late afternoon through to fairly late in the evening."

"Victim number one is Jane Redding, 48. She was an accomplished trial lawyer, but despite looking into her cases, we could find no disgruntled clients who might want to harm her. She was single, never married – in fact her colleagues described her as 'married to the job.' Victim number two is Tosheena Jenkins, 53. She was a professor of mathematics at UCLA, well-liked by both her colleagues and her students. She also was heavily involved in tutoring kids from the projects, so she spent a lot of time in some rough neighborhoods. She's been divorced for over 15 years, no kids, but was pretty close with her sisters. Victim number three is Gwendolyn Chang, 44. She was a well-respected psychologist, focusing primarily on marriage and family counselling. We haven't been able to get a client list yet, so there may be some potential leads there, but based on the similarities of her death to the others, and the lack of similarities in their lives, it seems unlikely."

"Survived by a 12-year-old daughter," Flynn added darkly. "That was a rough notification. Girl's father died of cancer a little over five years ago. Luckily she has her grandparents – I pray that they stay alive and healthy for a good long time."

"Let's look at the victims again – there has to be a link that we are not seeing." Sharon said.

"Well, they couldn't look more different," Provenza offered. "I mean, other than being roughly the same age, they have nothing physically in common."

"I don't know if I would say that," Flynn put in. "They're all attractive."

"That's true," Sanchez agreed. "These are some fine-looking ladies."

The four men in the room nodded in agreement, looking at the murder board thoughtfully. Sharon rolled her eyes and shared a look with Amy.

"Alright," she cut in briskly. "We've established that the perpetrator preys on women who take good care of themselves. I was actually thinking that they're also very accomplished, albeit in different ways."

"Yes, yes," Mike Tao chimed in. "They all had doctorates! Did you know that less than 2% of the US population have doctorates?" He continued to prattle on about statistics of higher education in America.

During his tirade, Sharon noticed that Amy Sykes looked pensive.

"What are you thinking, Amy?" she asked, interrupting Tao. Sykes looked at her with a start, looking slightly embarrassed. Sharon gave her a smile and an encouraging nod.

"I just was thinking that they're also all single," Amy Sykes said slowly. "I mean, they're all in different stages of being single – never married, divorced, widowed – but they're all single and have been for some time. Do we know if any of them were dating?"

Sanchez checked his notebook.

"None of them had boyfriends according to friends and relatives," he said.

"Well, they don't have to be serious to be dating!" Sykes said, somewhat indignantly. "I mean, they could still be looking. Did we check their financials for any charges from dating websites? Match-making companies? Speed-dating services? Think about it – Saturday night is the traditional date night. Maybe all three of these women had the misfortune of meeting the same man for a date that went horribly wrong."

"That's a good thought, Amy," Raydor complimented. "Mike?"

"Checking now …" Tao said as he rolled back over to his computer. He began typing furiously.

"Ok, bingo. All three have at least one charge from a speed-dating service over the course of the last six months. They're all different companies, though," Tao returned, ending on a slightly sour note.

At this Sykes jumped from her chair excitedly.

"No, no! That's ok – different services will often use the same venues for their events. Even if they all went to events put on by different companies, they might all have attended an event at a particular venue. That could be the connection!"

"You seem to know an awful lot about this stuff," Sanchez smirked.

Sykes' excitement came down a few notches at his tone.

"What? So I've tried it before – I'm not ashamed. It's hard to find time to date when you're a busy professional woman – that's why they _invented_ speed-dating. Back me up here, Captain."

The request caught Sharon Raydor by surprise. Her mouth opened wordlessly for a moment before she closed it and smiled uncomfortably.

"Well, I haven't been _single_ for quite some time, Amy. I've never tried it before."

Before Sykes could drag her into further discussion of her dating preferences, Tao spoke up again.

"Ok, I've got something. I looked up the three speed-dating companies and cross-checked their past events by venue. You got it, Sykes. Each company held at least one event at the same bar over the last month. The Raging Bull."

Sharon walked over to stand at Tao's shoulder.

"Can you look up when they are having another event there?" she asked, hope blossoming in her chest. They had their first solid lead, and she desperately wanted to catch the bastard before he struck again.

"Yep, hang on a sec …" Tao muttered as he clicked on a couple of links. "Ok, it looks like Cupid's Bow is having two events tomorrow at the Raging Bull. There is a 40-55 group at 6:30, and then a 22-32 group at 8:30."

"That's it!" Flynn, said excitedly, popping up out of his chair. "We need to get someone in there, try to catch this guy."

"First things first," Amy said. "Tao, are there any spots left for tomorrow night?"

Tao consulted his computer for a few moments.

"It looks like there are still a few spots open."

"Ok, perfect," Amy returned excitedly. "We should sign up before they're all taken."

"Well, first we need to figure out who is going in," Provenza noted, somewhat sarcastically.

The room was silent for a moment, and then Sykes spoke up again.

"Well, I would volunteer, but I don't fit the profile," she said slowly. She swiveled to look at Raydor. The guys followed suit.

Sharon nodded thoughtfully before noticing that her entire team was looking at her expectantly. She acquired a brief 'deer-in-the-headlights' expression, and then understanding dawned.

"Oh, I don't know," she said quickly. "I don't think I really fit the profile either. I mean, I'm even older than the oldest victim."

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"I hope you don't mind me saying so, ma'am, but you don't look it," Sanchez put forth. Sharon looked down as a blush rose on her cheeks.

"I appreciate that, Julio," she said quietly. "But even if I could pass for the proper age, I've never done undercover work before. Maybe we should look for someone else in the LAPD that would be a better fit."

"We don't have a lot of time, Captain," Flynn said. He looked at his watch. "The event occurs in less than 24 hours now. Who else could we find on such short notice? Most of the undercover officers are closer to Sykes' age, anyways. Anyone we found that fit the physical profile would likely be in a similar position – and they aren't up to date on the case like you are."

Sharon looked to Provenza, somewhat desperately. She was sure that he would come to her rescue, with some sarcastic jab about her lack of ability in this arena. He merely shrugged, however, his agreement with Flynn's assessment quite clear. She quickly surveyed the rest of her team and found similar expressions on their faces. She closed her eyes and sighed in defeat.

"Fine," she said, somewhat sharply. "I'll put the necessary paperwork in to Chief Taylor tonight so that we can jump into this first thing tomorrow morning. I'll see you all then."

She turned and walked into her office, closing the door behind her. The team looked at one another, and then began packing it in. Sharon leaned back against the closed door, a martyred expression on her face. This was so far out of her comfort zone, both professionally and personally, that it wasn't even funny. She pushed off the door and rounded her desk, seating herself behind it. She began to work out a plan for the next 24 hours, assigning duties to her team for both prep and during the operation.


	4. Chapter 4

Sharon Raydor strode into the bar a few minutes past 6pm. She had shed her black jacket, dressed now in just a red pencil skirt and flowing white silk blouse. She paused just inside the entrance, surveying the place and adjusting her glasses, which now sported the addition of a tiny camera that was recording everything she looked at. She noted that Sykes and Sanchez were seated at a table in the corner, nursing drinks and talking to one another quietly. They had chosen the table closest to the back room where the speed-dating event would be held, and would be close at hand should the operation start to go sideways. Provenza was outside in the van coordinating the operation. Buzz and Tao were also in the van, Buzz to ensure that the AV equipment functioned properly and Tao to look up information on each participant as Sharon made the circuit. Flynn was at the bar, nursing his standard cranberry and soda. He had already spoken to the bartender, who was going to subtly point out anyone he recognized from other speed-dating event nights.

Sharon heaved a sigh and headed for the back room. She was greeted almost immediately by a perky young woman who couldn't have been much over the age of 25.

"Are you here for Cupid's Bow?" she asked eagerly.

"Yes," Sharon replied. "My name is Laura Ross."

"Welcome! I'm Tiffany, and I'll be your hostess this evening," the young woman chirped. She consulted her clipboard briefly before making a dramatic check mark. "And there you are! I'm so glad that you could join us this evening. Have you been to one of our events before?"

"No," Sharon replied, truthfully.

"Oh my, how very exciting!" Tiffany exclaimed. Sharon smiled thinly. She had a feeling that it was going to be a long night.

"Well, we have a table set up right over there where you can get a name tag and a date card, which you'll be leaving with me at the end of the night. You can go ahead and freshen up, grab a drink at the bar, and then come back here and get situated on the far side of the table." Tiffany's attention was drawn by a new arrival, and so Sharon made her way back out to the bar. She stood next to Flynn, giving him a quick glance. He gave her a slight nod and an encouraging smile.

She ordered a glass of white wine, planning to sip it slowly over the next two hours. She made her way back to the table pointed out by Tiffany and wrote 'Laura' on a name tag, pressing it onto her blouse above her left breast. She grabbed a card, and then seated herself within view of Sykes and Sanchez. A woman almost immediately sat next to her. Sharon smiled at her noncommittally, which was apparently all the invitation the woman needed to lean over and strike up a conversation.

"I do hope that they have a better selection tonight than there was at the last one of these I attended," she whispered.

"Selection?" Sharon asked, creasing her brows in a bit of confusion.

"Why, the men, of course!" the woman replied, lightly slapping Sharon on the arm as if she had made a joke. Sharon looked down at her arm in mild irritation. "Last time, not only were there far more women than men, but it was like nerd night or something. I mean, every single one was some sort of tech guy – you know the type. Timid, flabby, overly pale – I'm looking for a real man. Someone tall and strong, and good with his hands." She said the last bit with a giggle.

Sharon stared at the woman for a moment. She was like a predatory, judgmental shark – Sharon desperately hoped that she was not representative of the average person that attended these types of events.

"Well, I hope you meet someone more to your liking tonight," Sharon said, hoping that their conversation was concluded.

"What about you? What kind of man are you looking for tonight? I love your shoes, by the way," the woman babbled on.

"Thanks," Sharon replied with a sigh. "I'm not really sure, to be honest. I suppose I'm hoping to find someone with whom conversation comes easily."

The woman gave Sharon a look of disbelief. Luckily for Sharon, her response was superseded by Tiffany clapping her hands together at the head of the table.

"Alright everyone! It's time to begin. The process is simple – you have a card in front of you on which you will write down the name of each of your dates, and then circle either the 'yes' or 'no' indicating whether you would like to see him or her again. You'll have 8 minutes per date, and then I will call time and you'll switch to your next date. The men will switch seats while the women stay put. At the end of the night, you'll hand in your cards to me. We'll tally the results and notify you by e-mail of the names and contact information of those who indicated mutual interest. You should be seated across from your first date now, so go ahead and get acquainted!"

Sharon looked across the table at her "date" and smiled. He smiled back but was focused intently on her chest.

"Hi, I'm Larry. I see you must be Laura." He said, not yet meeting her eyes. Sharon gave him a slight glare in response to the blatant ogling she was receiving - not that he could see it - but reminded herself to stay calm. She just had to make it through the next two hours. He chose that moment to look up and she quickly turned her glare into a smile.

"So nice to meet you, Larry. Maybe you could tell me a bit about yourself?"

Sharon winced as Tiffany clapped her hands and practically yelled for them to move on to the next date. She thanked Tom, and as the men changed seats, she glanced down at her watch. She had been there for just over an hour, and she was already at number 9 on her card, meaning she only had 4 more "dates" to go. Thankfully, this meant that she only had to survive another half hour. She hadn't anticipated the experience as being quite as exhausting as it was turning out to be.

So far, Sharon's "dates" had run the gamut from painfully uncomfortable to surprisingly enjoyable. After Larry the Ogler, she had met Darnell the Lawyer, who seemed a bit too smooth in her opinion, and fit the stereotype of a lawyer being a shark. She remembered thinking that he would probably get on marvelously with her neighbor. There had been Ryan, whose name she had written down but couldn't currently recall a single thing about him. Raj had been very awkward and couldn't seem to look her in the eye – not because he was staring at her chest, thankfully, but because he couldn't seem to raise his eyes from the table. Erik had actually tried to play footsie with her, which had shocked her so much she had almost broken character to give him a piece of her mind. Instead she had quietly shifted her feet so that they were underneath her chair and out of reach. George the Accountant had been perfectly nice, jovial, and elicited a few genuine laughs from her – had it not been for the profuse sweating and unmistakable stink of body odor, she probably would have enjoyed talking to him. She had actually enjoyed her "date" with Jack – the irony was not lost on her – who had been attractive, interesting, and easy to talk to, such that the eight minutes had flown by. Tom, on the other hand, had been difficult to talk to, seemed to be extremely put off by her cover as a surgeon, and had come across as a deeply unhappy person with no desire to change.

She summoned a fresh smile for her new "date", who was just now settling himself across from her. Before she could say anything, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Well, I have to tell you – you are the most beautiful woman here, by far. In fact, I'm surprised to even see you here – I'd expect that you'd have guys falling all over you."

Sharon felt a blush warming her cheeks, and looked down at the table. She wasn't used to receiving compliments, and she had never been particularly good at taking them gracefully. This time, her usual embarrassment was compounded by the fact that all of this was being recorded for her colleagues to hear.

"That's kind of you to say," she replied, looking back up. She extended her hand across the table. "Laura."

"Lyle," he said, as he took her hand. Instead of shaking it, however, he leaned forward and brushed his lips across her knuckles. The unexpected move caused Sharon's breath to hitch, but she smiled and drew her hand back.

"Alright, Lyle," she said. "After a line like that, you must have a decent follow-up."

His handsome face creased into an easy smile and it was he who now looked down at the table.

"I know that probably sounded like a line, but it wasn't. I'm an honest sort of guy – I just call them like I see them."

He looked back up and into her eyes.

"I am curious, though, what brings you here, to this bar, on this particular night?"

"Well," Sharon began. "I'm recently divorced, and it's been quite a long time since I dated. It was actually my daughter who signed me up for this – she thought that it was time for me to 'get back on the market', so to speak. And so here I am."

"She certainly has my gratitude," Lyle responded. Sharon found herself blushing again, and getting irritated with herself for reacting to his flattery so easily. The man certainly knew how to charm. "You said, 'recently' divorced – just how recent is that?"

"Last week marked a year," she replied. "I have to admit, it has all been a bit of a shock. We were married for twenty three years, and honestly, I thought we were happy. But after my son went off to college, my husband told me that he was done, that the marriage wasn't working for him anymore. I found out afterwards that he had been having an affair with his secretary for quite some years. Apparently he was determined to stay in our marriage until the kids were out of the house, and once they were gone, he felt that he was free to remarry. I guess I should have seen it coming, but it was a shock. I've had some time to work through everything, and I've decided to move on – to hell with him!"

"His loss is my gain, then," he said with a flirtatious smile. "But I'm still curious – why speed dating? Surely you were beating them off with a stick, even when you were married."

Sharon let out a laugh before she could stop herself. She was trying to steer clear of her natural propensity for excessive self-deprecation, but he seemed to just be bringing it out of her.

"Hardly," she responded. "Besides, as I said, I haven't dated in twenty three years. I wasn't really sure where to begin. I'm a surgeon, so I meet men all the time, but they're either colleagues or have a serious condition for which I am operating on them. Neither case makes for a good place to start a relationship. But enough about me – I could ask you the same question. What brings you here, to this bar, on this particular night?"

He sat back and smiled as she parroted his earlier words back at him.

"Well, like you, I recently became single," he said. "My wife died after a long battle with cancer, and as much as I miss her, I am at the point where I am ready to move on. I miss having someone to share my life with, who wants to hear about my day when I come home, with whom I can get out and explore this amazing world we live in. A friend told me about this service, and I figured it was worth a shot. So, here I am."

They were interrupted by Tiffany announcing that it was time to switch again. Sharon smiled at Lyle apologetically.

"That's it, I suppose," she said ruefully. "It was very nice to meet you."

"And you," he replied. "I sincerely hope that I will be seeing you again – this was far too brief."

And with that he was gone and she was faced with her next date.

By the end of the night, Sharon's face hurt from smiling so much, her mouth was dry from the constant chit chat, and she was mentally exhausted. She had dutifully circled yes after every name, though it pained her to do so in some cases. She really just wanted to go home, but knew that the team needed to go over each date while the experience was fresh in her mind. After Lyle, she again was faced with a bland date that she could barely remember, followed by RJ, who struck her as an aging hippie who most likely was still partaking in certain medicinal herbage. Her last date, Ash, was a pharmacist who liked to talk. In fact, she had barely gotten a word in edgewise, though it was actually more of a blessing, as she was really done with making small talk for the night.

She gathered her purse and made her way out of the bar and to her car. Sharon took a minute to compose herself before calling Provenza. The plan was for the van to tail her on the way back to the station so that they could be sure she wasn't being followed. It seemed unlikely that their perp would pounce so soon after the initial meeting – assuming, of course, that he was even there – but it never hurt to take precautions. She was to keep her team on the line until they cleared her to return to the station.

Having her phone connected via Bluetooth, she informed Provenza of her intent and put the car into drive, taking off into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

The team had gathered in the murder room while Sharon was in her office, on the phone with Rusty. Tao had written down the name of each man at the speed dating event on the murder board and was in the process of putting up screenshots of each man's face from the camera footage underneath the corresponding name. It was at this point that Sharon exited her office at a brisk pace and addressed the room.

"Alright, let's get down to business. Andy, did you get anything from the bartender?"

Flynn grimaced and rubbed his hand over the nape of his neck.

"Nope, complete dead end. He didn't recognize anyone from the speed dating event, though he pointed out that they mostly kept to the back room and thus he didn't see much of them once they had ordered their initial drink."

Sharon nodded with a shrug.

"I think that maybe we should start with your impressions of each of these men," Sykes spoke up. "We are working off the assumption that the killer went on at least one date with the victims after the initial meeting, so he would have to be someone who was appealing enough that a woman wouldn't write him off after the first five minutes."

"Excellent idea, Sykes," Provenza said with a bit too much enthusiasm. He practically jumped from his seat to stand up at the murder board. "Captain, what did you think of Mr. Larry Larson?" He paused momentarily. "My, that is an unfortunate name."

Sharon squirmed a little uncomfortably, but knew that this had to be done. She was about to respond when Tao interrupted.

"Actually, why don't we play the footage of each date for everyone? It would be helpful to get multiple opinions – Provenza and I have seen it already as we were in the van, but Flynn, Sykes or Sanchez might have additional input."

Amy was already nodding. Sharon closed her eyes briefly, but nodded her approval.

"Buzz," Provenza called out. "Roll the footage of Mr. Larson."

Buzz fiddled with the projector for a moment then pressed the button that lowered the projection screen. A moment later, the screen was filled with the image of a balding middle-aged man with hawk-like features and a slight hunch to his shoulders.

"What is he doing?" Flynn asked in some confusion. The footage had begun to play, and still the man had not looked up at the camera, which he knew was situated in the Captain's glasses.

Sharon wanted to crawl into a hole and die. She couldn't imagine that this situation could get any more embarrassing. She glanced around the room and caught Amy's knowing look.

"Let's just say he didn't seem overly interested in my face," Sharon finally said.

Andy gave her a blank look for a moment before realization dawned on his face. The look of revelation quickly turned to anger, however.

"You mean he -!" Flynn started. Now Sharon rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Lieutenant," she said wearily. "Can we move on, please?"

"I'd be happy to kick his ass for you later, ma'am," Julio offered. "Give him a few pointers on how to be a gentleman."

"Thank you, Julio, but that won't be necessary," Sharon replied.

"Do guys really do that? So blatantly?" Buzz asked in a shocked voice.

"Oh yeah," Sykes huffed. She looked a little embarrassed as everyone focused on her but pushed on. "And, it's a major turn off. I mean, I wouldn't want to see that guy again. He's a creep. I doubt our victims would have given him a second chance either."

"Agreed," Sharon said. "I think we can relegate Larry to the bottom of our list of suspects. It seems unlikely that he would fit our killer's profile."

The next two hours passed in much the same way as the team went through the footage of each date and discussed the Captain's impressions of each man. They had grouped the men into three categories: those that were highly suspect, those that couldn't quite be ruled out, and those that seemed unlikely to fit the killer's profile. It was past 11pm at that point, and Sharon's brain was quite fried. She had ordered everyone to go home so that they could start fresh in the morning. As she let herself into the condo, she let out a satisfied sigh, happy to finally be home. She found Rusty lounging on the couch playing on his phone. He looked up as she came fully into the room.

"Hey, Sharon," he greeted her.

"Rusty," she acknowledged. She made her way into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. As she opened the fridge to grab the bottle she had started the night before, she called back into the other room, "How was school?"

She heard a martyred sigh and smiled to herself as she poured the wine.

"Fine," he huffed. "I have to write an essay on the Scarlet Letter for next week. It's, like, a really dumb book and I hate the way he writes. And what kind of a name is 'Hester', anyways?"

Sharon popped open the lid to the recycling bin and carefully dropped the now empty wine bottle before responding.

"Hawthorne lived in a different time, which is reflected in his writing style," Sharon lectured back, grabbing her wine glass as she left the kitchen. "The story itself, though, is full of interesting symbolism as well as an exploration of both Puritan society and human nature."

Rusty was giving her a sour look.

"I should have known you would like it," he said resignedly. "It just seems so dated. It's, like, totally not relevant to today's world. I don't see why we have to read it."

Sharon gave a pensive hum before taking a sip from her wine glass.

"A lot has changed," she agreed. "But many of this country's earliest settlers were Puritans. Do you really think that has had no influence on our society, even today? What do you think would happen if a close knit community today were to find out two of its members were having an affair?"

Rusty's look remained on the sour side, but he appeared to be considering her questions.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "But I guess the reaction wouldn't be good …"

"So, maybe the book isn't completely irrelevant," she concluded with a small smile. Rusty rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine," he said. "But I still don't like it." He paused a moment before changing the subject. "How was your day?"

Sharon closed her eyes with a sigh. "Long."

"Are you still working on that serial killer case?" he enquired.

"Unfortunately," she said. "We're trying a new tactic to try and catch him before he kills again."

"Yeah?" he said, sounded interested.

"We put together a basic profile, so now we're trying to bait him into choosing his next victim on our terms," she told him.

"You mean, like an undercover operation," he said slowly.

Sharon hummed in the affirmative.

"But, doesn't he, like, go after older women?" Rusty asked, furrowing his brow in his effort to remember.

Sharon gave him a look. "Middle-aged," she rephrased for him.

"So then, who's going undercover?" he asked, clearly thinking through each member of her squad and coming up empty.

Sharon paused, suddenly realizing that this line of questioning might not end well. She had promised never to lie to him, though, and try as she might, she couldn't think of a good reason to withhold the information.

"I am."

"WHAT?" Rusty all but roared, leaping up from the couch. Sharon closed her eyes for a moment and wearily rubbed her forehead. "You can't! You're not SIS, you're not trained for this. They have to find someone else!"

Sharon couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation. She carefully sat her wine glass down before responding.

"Well, now you know how I felt a few months ago when you went undercover," she told him. He gave her a look that clearly indicated that he did not appreciate her comparison, but she continued anyways. "I am backed by the whole team, never truly on my own. Once we get this guy to tip his hand, they'll swoop in and he'll be in custody. We'll have him before he can do anything to me."

"Yeah, well, that was the plan for my operation as well, and you remember how well that went," he bit back sarcastically, pacing behind the couch. Now it was Sharon's turn to give him an unappreciative look, though he was too distracted to notice it. "Sharon, I just don't want you to get hurt … or worse. I mean, this guy has definitely killed, like, three people, right? He must be good at it – there has to be another way."

"I know, Rusty," Sharon told him soothingly. "Frankly, I'd rather not be doing this, but there isn't anyone else who could jump in on such short notice. We only put this plan together today. And I couldn't live with myself knowing that I let another woman fall into this guy's grasp when I could have done something to stop it."

"But _I_ don't want you to, Sharon," Rusty pleaded. He stopped his pacing and looked down at the floor, now speaking very softly. "I don't know what I would do if something happened to you."

Tears pricked Sharon's eyes at his admission, but she blinked them away. They still did not show a lot of overt affection, in either gestures or words. Sharon would have liked to do and say more, but as far as Rusty had come, he was still guarded when it came to demonstrations of affection. She couldn't resist the urge to hug him this time, however, so she quickly got up and rounded the couch to take him in her arms.

"Nothing is going to happen to me," she whispered as he slowly returned her embrace.

"You can't promise that," he said accusingly, his voice muffled by her shoulder.

"No," she acceded, pulling back and placing her hands on his shoulders. "But I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to stay safe, and you know that the team will do the same on my behalf. I'm a police officer, Rusty. It comes with certain risks. You have to accept that."

Rusty nodded, looking back down at the floor. His head then snapped up and he looked at her shrewdly.

"Ok, but can I be there in the van when you go undercover?" he asked. "That way I can know that you're okay."

"No," Sharon told him firmly, stepping away now that he seemed to be back on emotionally solid ground again.

"But, Sharon," he whined. "You got to watch when I was undercover!"

"Yes," she replied, walking back to pick up her abandoned wine glass. "But I was your guardian at the time, as well as a fully trained police officer. You are neither of those things." Rusty made a scoffing sound. "Besides, I don't think you'd really want to watch anyways."

"What? Of course I would!" he exclaimed. His face soon developed a wary expression. "I mean, wait. Why wouldn't I?"

Sharon finished the last of her wine and then regarded him for a moment.

"I'll be going on dates with our suspects."

Rusty gave her slightly disgusted look.

"Oh. Yeah, ok. Maybe I don't need to see that," he agreed. Sharon smiled knowingly and went to put her glass in the dishwasher.

"How about this," she said from the kitchen. "After I'm finished, I'll call or text you each time to let you know that I'm okay."

Rusty contemplated that for a moment. "Before and after," he bargained. "Otherwise I'll just be constantly worried. That way I'll know to only be worried during specific periods of time."

Sharon returned from the kitchen. "You have a deal. Now, I'm exhausted, so I'm headed to bed. I would suggest that you do the same."

"Fine," he said, grabbing his phone from the couch. "I was going to, you don't have to tell me."

Sharon smiled at the return of the recalcitrant teenager.

"Goodnight, Rusty," she said as she passed by him on the way to her room.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: I just want to thank everyone who has read this story, especially to those who left feedback. I was stalled, and all the support really helped me to break through my writer's block. I'm sorry it took me a while to post - I really don't like to post anything unfinished, so I have actually written more, but this is the next part that I feel satisfied enough to share with all of you. There is no Rusty in this chapter, but I did throw in a little bit of Shandy at the end ... I hope it measures up to what you expected from the previous installments!_

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"We have interest," Tao exclaimed from his desk.

It was Wednesday morning, a day and a half after the speed dating event, and the team was all present in the murder room. Sykes and Sanchez had been focused on running background checks on the first six suspects, while Flynn and Provenza focused on the second six. Tao had requested and received participant lists from the different speed dating services for all events going back a whole month. He was focused on cross-checking the names of the victims with any of the men from the previous night while also periodically checking the e-mail they had set up for the fictitious Laura Ross. Raydor was in her office with the door open, finishing up some paperwork. She rose from her desk and walked toward Tao's when she heard his proclamation.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense, Tao," Provenza grouched.

Tao gave him a measured look over the rims of his glasses, replete with an exaggerated pause, before continuing.

"The Captain garnered six matches from last night," he said, giving Sharon an approving nod. "We have interest from Lyle, Larry, George, Darnell, Jack, and Ryan."

"I'm surprised we didn't hear anything from RJ," Sanchez deadpanned. "He seemed totally into you, ma'am."

Sharon raised an eyebrow in his general direction and Provenza rolled his eyes mightily.

"This is good," Sykes said, ignoring the comment completely. She rose from her seat and approached the murder board, picking up a dry erase marker on her way. She began placing check marks next to the men Tao had listed. "This is really good. We got all three of our primary suspects and two of the maybes. Excellent work, Captain!"

Sharon gave Amy a tight smile before addressing the room.

"What about the background checks," Sharon asked. "Anything interesting?"

"Well, we had one that definitely popped," Flynn spoke up. He consulted his notes for a few seconds before continuing. "Lyle Madsen. It appears that he does not exist. I'm guessing that that isn't his real name."

"Well, that's suspicious," Sykes spoke up. "Though I suppose there are several non-murderous reasons for using a pseudonym … and it's not like the speed-dating service is going to do a background check."

"Tao," Provenza called out. "Did Mr. Madsen attend any of the other events?"

Tao consulted his computer before replying.

"It looks like Lyle is quite the frequent flyer," Tao informed them slowly. "He seems to attend an average of two events a week – he shows up in all three of the dating companies' databases going back about three months. He did attend each of the events that our victims attended, in addition to quite a few others."

Sharon slowly walked up to the murder board, contemplating Lyle's photograph with narrowed eyes.

"Ok, we have our number one suspect," she said. "Anyone else who popped up frequently, Mike?"

"None who were quite as prolific," Tao informed them, still squinting at his computer. "Darnell Williams showed up in all three databases, but didn't overlap with Tosheena Jenkins. Erik Foxman showed up multiple times in two of the databases and overlapped with one of our victims. Tom Schultz showed up multiple times in the Cupid's Bow database, but didn't actually overlap with any of our victims. Ryan Kobayashi showed up once before, overlapping with our first victim, and Ash Chaudhari also showed up once before, overlapping with our last victim. All the rest appear to be first timers, at least for these three companies over the past six months."

"And there wasn't anything else in the background checks that raised flags?" Sharon asked again.

"Not at first glance," Sanchez said. He flipped through his notes. "They all checked out against the information we had from the event footage, no criminal records, a few speeding tickets here and there."

"Same here," Flynn chimed in. "Aside from Lyle Madsen, we did find that RJ Andross had several arrests for possession of marijuana, but that was really no surprise. The other four were clean."

"Speak of the devil," Tao intoned. "We just got an e-mail from 'Lyle Madsen' asking if the Captain would have drinks with him tonight." He let his eyes slowly travel to meet with Sharon's. "Eager beaver, isn't he?"

Sharon blew air through her lips in an exasperated fashion.

"Well, we wouldn't want to disappoint him, now would we?" Sharon asked the room. "Mike, pick a bar that we can set up at – somewhere close to a hospital. Make it sound like I'm busy but could make it out for a short drink."

"And there is another one," Tao informed her. "We just got an e-mail from Darnell Williams. He would like to meet you for lunch sometime this week."

"Go ahead and respond to him as well, and get something set up as soon as possible," Sharon told him decisively. "I do wonder if he might have encountered Tosheena Jenkins in some other way. Julio, did you see any other ways in which their paths could have crossed?"

"He does do pro bono work down in the same area of town that Tosheena Jenkins tutored in," he told them.

"There you have it," Provenza stated. "Tao, if we don't hear from the others by the end of the day, reach out and try to set up dates with them as well."

"I'm on it," Tao informed them, typing furiously on his computer.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Eight hours later, Sharon found herself walking into the bar that Lieutenant Tao had selected, her steps faltering as she scanned the room for Lyle Madsen. She spotted Flynn and Sanchez during her perusal, each sitting on their own and nursing a drink, providing back up should it be needed. Her attention was then drawn to movement at the back of the room, which turned out to be Lyle Madsen waving at her. She smiled and strode towards him at a more determined pace. As she neared the table, he rose and reached out for her hand, bringing it to his lips in the same manner as he had the previous night. He then proceeded to pull out her chair and settle her into it before re-seating himself.

"I hope I wasn't being too forward in contacting you so soon after the event," he began. "It's just that I felt such a connection with you the other night, and I really wanted to see you again."

Sharon smiled and shook her head.

"Of course not," she reassured him. "I felt the same way, so it was gratifying to get your note. I would have contacted you myself, but I had an early morning surgery and didn't get to my e-mail until closer to lunchtime."

"Well, if this is how you look after a day of surgeries, I'm blown away," he told her. She smiled and looked down at the table. She thought his constant flattery was getting to be a bit much, especially having gone through a thorough post-mortem on their speed date with her team, but had decided to play into it. They still had no idea how he went from total charmer to raping murderer, if Lyle was indeed the killer, and so the team had determined that her best bet was to keep him interested. It would give them more time to observe him, gauge his reactions and behavior, so that when it came to the point where his mask came off, they would be ready.

"You know, Lyle," Sharon tried to sound coy as she looked up at him through her lashes. "I really didn't hear much about you the other night – what is it that you do for a living?"

"Ah, well," he said, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Nothing quite as exciting as surgery. I'm a claims adjuster for a health insurance company. It's not the most interesting job in the world, but it pays the bills. It does provide good stories, though. You wouldn't believe some of the claims we get – people do some crazy stuff in the course of living a full and active life. And unlike so many things in life, insurance does not discriminate when it comes to stupidity."

Sharon smiled and chuckled quietly.

"Oh, I believe it," she said. "I'm a trauma surgeon, so I spend a lot of time in the ER. This one time …"

Sharon began describing a bizarre injury she remembered from a TV medical drama she used to watch. Earlier that day, the team had discussed what she could do to make more of impact on him, and one strategy they had come up with was to talk about her accomplishments. Not in an obtrusive way, but to take any opportunity to emphasize her success. Mike Tao had spent a great deal of the day with her to fashion a believable back story for her cover as a surgeon, so she would have just enough to talk about to be believable.

Over the next half hour, Sharon did a lot of the talking. Lyle mostly listened to her and asked questions that would invite her to open up further. It didn't seem like he was at all bothered by her successes; quite the opposite, actually. Then again, the most successful serial killers were often excellent conmen. Sharon glanced down at her watch and started in with her excuse to get away.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed, sitting up straighter and placing both her feet on the floor. "I really should get back. I need to finish my charts for the day and do a couple of post-op checks before I head home for the night."

As she began to gather her things, Lyle jumped up from his chair.

"Surely you don't have to leave just yet?" he asked, motioning for her to stay seated. "We just barely got to talking. I was actually hoping that I could convince you to have dinner with me after this."

He gave her a particularly winsome smile. She smiled back at him regretfully.

"I'm sorry, but I really only had time for a short drink today – I need to get back."

She stood, expecting him to move out of her way. Instead he stood his ground and gently grasped her upper arms. She tensed and looked up at him, surprised and a bit wary.

"Laura, I really like you," he said with absolute sincerity. "I haven't felt this way about anyone since my wife died. Can I at least have a rain check on dinner?"

Sharon raised an inner eyebrow at his remark – less than an hour of interaction and she was his new soul-mate? Her suspicion of him ratcheted back up again. Outwardly she gave him a small smile.

"I'd like that," she said softly.

He grinned like a young boy who had just gotten what he wanted for Christmas.

"Are you free Saturday? I could get us reservations at the Four Seasons …" he trailed off invitingly. Her suspicion ratcheted up even further at his choice of day.

"It's a date," she replied. "What time should I meet you there?"

"Why don't I pick you up at 8?"

"Oh," Sharon thought quickly. "Well, I'm on call this weekend, and I really shouldn't be without my car in case I need to go in. I'll just meet you there at 8?"

He nodded in resigned understanding.

"Of course. I'll make the reservation."

His face then began descending, causing Sharon a moment of panic. She really didn't want to kiss this creep, at least not until she couldn't possibly put it off. She quickly moved her cheek into his line of attack, giving him a peck on his cheek. She then leaned slightly forward so that she could whisper into his ear.

"I'm looking forward to it," she said breathily. She hoped it was enough to cover her evasion of his kiss. She then began walking, not once looking back at him. If she had, she would have caught him checking out her backside. Andy Flynn did not miss it, however, and scowled mightily into his cranberry and soda.

He hadn't expected to feel so … irritated by the sudden influx of male attention his Captain was receiving. And yet, there it was. He knew she was an attractive woman – he'd confirmed this for himself plenty of times – but he also appreciated her in other ways. He appreciated her intelligence, her leadership, her role as a mother to Rusty – even her sense of humor, though he admitted it could be a bit odd at times. These other guys, however, couldn't know hardly any of that. To them she was just a skirt, a conquest, a prize to be won.

He figured he should know, because that is how he used to view her, prior to actually getting to know her. Well, maybe not so much as a prize – he'd really disliked her before she had taken over Major Crimes. It had kind of snuck up on him, actually. Until just a few days ago, he hadn't fully realized that he felt that way. Sure they had been doing an odd sort of friendship dance for months now, ever since she went with him to Nicole's wedding. But he had honestly only thought of her as a really good friend, despite what he had let his family think.

Andy was pulled from his reverie by Lyle Madsen approaching the bar. He was paying his tab, so Andy got ready to follow him out. The plan was for Andy to tail the guy to his car so that he could get a plate and hopefully ID him. Sanchez was already moving to take custody of his empty glass with a cocktail napkin. One way or another, they were going to figure out who the hell this creep really was.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"I can't believe he took a taxi," Flynn grumbled. "Who takes a taxi in LA?"

He was riding back to the station with Provenza, who had stayed behind to give Flynn and Sanchez a ride. Provenza gave his partner a disbelieving look.

"Plenty of people take taxis, Sir," Sanchez intoned from the back seat. "Especially from bars where they have been drinking."

Flynn made a scoffing noise and looked out the window.

"What is with you?" Provenza demanded. "Did the bartender not put enough cranberry in that swill you call a drink?"

"I just don't like this," Flynn told the window. "Using the Captain as bait. This guy is a total creep – you should have seen him tonight. I wish we could arrest him right now."

"You didn't have a problem a few days ago when you all but demanded that we send someone in," Provenza pointed out accusingly.

"Yeah, well, I have a problem with it now," Flynn sniped back. The car was silent for a few moments before Flynn spoke up quietly. "He kept checking her out."

"You jealous, sir?" Sanchez smirked.

"What? No!" Flynn denied vehemently, even turning around to face Sanchez in the back.

"That's good, Sir," Sanchez soothed before delivering his next barb. "Because if we had to arrest every guy that checked the Captain out, we'd run out of jail cells real quick." He paused for effect, enjoying the look of outrage on Flynn's face. "And I'd have to arrest you as a frequent offender."

Flynn had been about to retort with something, but the last comment shut him up effectively.

"Can we not talk about this? I don't need that kind imagery in my head." Provenza complained. "I'm sorry I asked."

"Yes, Sir."

"Fine."

They managed the rest of the trip in silence.


End file.
